One Last Sunrise
by Reetinkerbell
Summary: Buffy was ready for her destiny to being tonight. AU Post 'Becoming Part 2'.


  
**Title:** One Last Sunrise  
**Author:** Reetinkerbell  
**Fandom:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
**Characters:** Spike, Buffy. Spike/Buffy.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** _Buffy was ready for her destiny to being tonight._  
**Spoilers:** AU Post - 2x22 - "_Becoming Part II_".  
**Warning:** Mentioning of Character Death & Character Vamping.  
**Written:** October 2004. **Edited:** October 2006.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own.  
**Distribution:** Linking only please.  
**Complete.**

**One Last Sunrise** (1/1)

_**Spike, 1880, London. Twenty-five years old.**_  
William sat alone in his small room, writing on a piece of parchment. The only source of light was the single oil lamp which burned softly beside him on his desk, casting shadows over the wood finish and making the parchment appear even more yellow than it was.

He had been working all night on the poem and finally, it was finished. He wrote the last word with a smile on his face. This was his greatest work as of yet, and he was very happy with how it had turned out.

He wanted to read it to his mother the first thing in the morning, as she enjoyed his poems so, but he decided to wait. It was only right that the first person to hear it was the one it was written for, Cicely Adams. And his mother wouldn't have to wait long to hear it, as he planned on showing it to Cicely the next night.

He glanced out the large window situated almost right off to his side, and realised with no small amount of surprise that dawn had already begun to light the London sky.

He extinguished the lamp and stood, stretching his body for a moment before he yawned. He walked over to the window and sat down on the small ledge, looking down onto the street and over the rooftops, watching the sun rise above them. He had spent many a nights there on that very same windowsill, not being able to tear himself away from the fascinating books he read or the poem he was composing, only to realise morning had arrived. During those nights, he stayed up and watched the sunrise, the beauty of which even Miss Cicily Adams couldn't compare, before retiring to bed.

Tonight there was something else that kept him from his sleep. He could feel it in his stomach, that there was something about this night, this morning, something that would come to mean a lot to him in the years to come. He couldn't explain the need he had to stay awake just a little while longer, but he had to follow his instincts.

So William sat at the window and watched the sun rise in the horizon, not knowing that later that night, as he met his creator and fell into damnation, this would be the moment he'd think of before the darkness swallowed him.

He didn't know that this moment would become the most vivid memory he would have of his human days, and that it would stay with him for centuries. He didn't know that when his only Childe asked him about the night he'd been turned, more than a century later, all he would remember clearly would be that moment, when the sun brightened the sky and all was calm and quiet.

He didn't know that because of that one moment, he would risk his life to make sure that the love of his life saw one last sunrise before he saved her from a decease that were about to claim her life, damning her from the sun and mortal life forever in the process.

He didn't know any of that at the time, still he savoured the moment as if it was to be the last sunrise he would ever see.

_**Buffy, 2001, New York City. Twenty years old.**_  
Buffy knew from the moment Spike stepped into her room that tonight was the night her life took another drastic turn. Though she was scared of what she knew the night held in store for her, she was glad. She was tired of fighting.

Just earlier that same day, the doctors had given her two more months to live, at best, if couldn't find her a donor. Worse even, they said that the odds were against her even if they found a donor before that time was over, as chances were slim she'd survive the operation. By the look on Spike's face, he'd just heard the bad news and she knew he wasn't going to be able to wait and watch her as she slowly died any longer.

She knew what he was going to do, and worse yet, she knew she was going to let him. Despite her years as a Slayer, she was going to let him turn her into a vampire.

Because she wanted it too.

They'd been together for almost two years. After leaving Sunnydale following the death of Angel, Buffy had ended up in her hometown. LA hadn't changed much and she'd found it fairly easy to slip back into the life she'd led before becoming the Slayer.

She hadn't been in LA for more than two weeks when she bumped into Spike while out clubbing with some of her new coworkers. After a long-drawn out fight to the death behind the club, the two had decided to continue the truce they'd formed in Sunnydale. Instead of finishing the fight – and each other – Spike had taken her to a bar close by where the they'd proceeded to drink themselves under the table and spill all their deepest and darkest secrets to the other. One thing had lead to another, and soon they'd been drawn into a bar fight between two rival bike gangs.

When they managed to escape the bar just in time to evade the police, they had silently decided to stick together.

That agreement had been furthered sealed when Spike saw Buffy's apartment for the first time. He'd been horrified to find that she lived not only in a small one room place, but it wasn't even a safe one room apartment. He knew that the diner she worked at didn't pay much, but to have to live in an apartment where the warm water pump didn't work half the time, the window didn't quite shut completely and with walls so thin, he would've been able to hear all of her neighbors even if he wasn't a vampire, well, that was just unthinkable.

After arguing about it at length, Spike told Buffy that under no circumstances was she going to continue to live in that dump and that she was to pack her things. She had, and not even an hour later she and her things had found a home in Spike's much larger, cleaner and safer apartment.

Buffy had been hesitant at first to move in with him, but she'd reasoned that if he wanted her dead, he would've killed her already. Besides, she knew that he was feeling lonely not having anyone to take care of after Dru left him, and far be it for her to deny him someone to take care of. Especially as she needed someone to take care of her, even if that someone happened to be her mortal enemy.

It didn't take them long before they were lovers. Spending as much time together as they did, coupled with the physical attraction that had always been there between them simply became too much one night.

It took them even less time to fall in love.

Like any other couple, they had problems, the main issue being getting used to the others habits. Buffy had demanded that Spike stopped killing. She could deal with the stealing and his other evil traits, as he'd done it for over a century before she was even born, but she couldn't take having him kill people. She asked him to bag it, and take his violent tendencies out on computer games.

Spike could easily agree to everything she asked of him, but he would not budge on his feeding habits. He was a vampire, and even if he was shacking up with the Slayer, he was going to drink blood from a bag. No matter how much she pouted.

They argued about it for a very long time, spending tense weeks in each others company until finally, Buffy gave up and said that if he stopped killing, she'd let him have her blood from time to time. Spike had been quick to agree. He'd be a fool if he hadn't.

The truth was, he hadn't been quite as opposed to the idea of getting his blood from a bag as he'd lead her to believe. It was easier to drink from a bag, and he wouldn't have to worry about pissing her off and dumping bodies left and right. He'd just resisted for so long before he wanted her to realise what exactly it was he would be giving up for her.

In turn, Spike had asked Buffy to stop patrolling. Unless a demon or vampire came after her, or she saw someone attack, she was to leave that world alone. He reasoned that it was only fair of him to ask that of her, as she'd asked him to stop killing. And, the less the demon community heard of someone out killing their kind, the better. Buffy, who'd wanted to turn her back on that part of her for good, had happily agreed, not even mentioning the part where she'd already stopped slaying.

They settled into an easy rhythm with each other and for more than two months, Buffy didn't see a single demon anywhere. Of course, as she usually spent her time at home with Spike, or at work, that wasn't much of a surprise to her. Especially not as Spike had a habit of dropping her off and picking her up from work every day, despite the fact that they lived not far from where she worked. Buffy had gotten used to Spike being the only demon around, to the point where she was surprised when one night, on their way home from a night out with a group of Buffy's coworkers, they encountered a gang of vampires. Apparently, the group of seven had heard rumours of the Slayer being in town, and had come to LA to investigate.

Due to the fact that they knew they would be drinking heavily, they hadn't taken the car. They lived close by, and Spike wasn't going to risk crashing with Buffy in the car. And, even if Buffy didn't have a lower tolerance for alcohol than Spike, and wasn't even drunker than him, he'd seen her drive, and that was not an experience he wanted to repeat. Spike regretted the decision to not take the car – or at least a cab – the moment he sensed the approaching vampires. Having had his senses filled with Buffy and only her, by the time he sensed them, it'd been too late to do anything but fight.

Thankfully, the vampires were mere fledglings and even in his drunken state, Spike managed to overpower and dust them all, protecting his mate.

The thought had made him stop in his tracks for a moment in drunken confusion, the dust of the vampires he'd just killed to protect Buffy floating down to the ground. He tried to remember the day, the moment, when he'd started to think of Buffy as his mate.

He had looked over at her, where she stood, leaning against a wall for support, watching him and Spike realised that he'd always thought of her as his. Even back when they'd been mortal enemies, she'd been _his_ mortal enemy.

After that night, Spike had realised that if a bunch of fledglings could find her, so would the rest of the demon community. And as she'd kept her promise not to stake any more vampires, she was now so out of shape that she wouldn't be much of a match against an older vampire.

So Spike began to train her, wanting her to get back into slaying shape. Soon, she was patrolling once more.

Because what was the point of her being able to do her sworn duty to protect the world against vampires and demons, if she didn't do it?

And as Spike didn't want her to get hurt, and he always got off on a bit of violence before bedtime, he began to accompany her on her patrols. Usually, he stood back and just watched her, giving her pointers on her fighting style and basking in the knowledge that the fiery woman he saw dancing and killing demons left and right with a simple flick of her wrist was his.

At first, their patrols only took place once or twice a week, but eventually, they were out ever night. Not only did it do Buffy good to slay vampires, both physically and emotionally, but she had trouble keeping from jumping Spike until they returned home, after a good, hard fight, an incentive for Spike to join her on her patrols if there ever was one.

Three months later, Spike spied Giles and Xander in one of LA's friendlier demon bars. He'd been there to meet a guy who knew a guy who could get him a new legal identity, as the one he had was starting to get old. He stuck around and watched them until they left, at which point he followed them back to where they were staying. The hotel was a little too close to their apartment for comfort and the first thing Spike did when he came home, was tell Buffy.

The first thing Buffy did the next morning, was call her manager and tell him that she quit, a few months sooner than originally planned. They'd already planned on moving to New York at the end of the year, but now that Buffy's old friends were there, lurking about and most likely looking for her, they decided to leave as soon as possible. They packed up, got Spike a new identity and soon they on the road to New York. Neither had looked back.

Much.

Not long after that, they found out about Buffy's disease. They had barely had the time to come to terms with the fact that Buffy's mortality was rearing it's ugly head sooner than they'd both thought it would, when they found out that her leukemia was spreading much faster than the doctors had first thought, and if it continued at that speed, she wouldn't have much time left.

It was then, as they cried their eyes out at the thought of losing each other so soon, that Spike confessed to Buffy his decision to turn her. If not right then, he would simply wait until she was too weak to fight him and thus unable to stop him. Because in the time that they'd been together, she'd come to mean more to him than anyone had ever done before, and he wasn't ready to let her go. He never would be. She was the only one who accepted him, William the Poet, and Spike, the Slayer of Slayers, and loved him wholly and he could not go on without her.

When Buffy had cupped his cheek, and asked him why he told her of his plans, rather than just take her by surprise when the day came, Spike's answer had been simple; he'd wanted her to know. He didn't want her to be taken by surprise, not when she was dying. And he wanted her to know why he did it, without him having to tell her then, or afterwards.

Buffy had nodded, accepting his answer. After a lingering kiss, she'd carefully asked him if he'd turn her at a later time, even if she made it through the leukemia. He'd looked at her, and their eyes had locked for a few moments before his slid down to where their hands were joined. He never did answered her question, but she'd seen the positive answer in his eyes.

And now, months later, as Buffy lay in her hospital bed, waiting for Spike to do or say something, she couldn't help but smile tiredly up at him. She was going to be turned into a vampire, one of the creatures of the night that she'd spent years killing, and she was going to lose her soul. And yet, she couldn't help but feel that this, this was her salvation.

She wasn't ready to be gone from the world just yet, and she was far from ready to leave Spike. She seriously doubted the likelihood of a donor being found in the short time she had left; after all, they hadn't been able to find one so far. Buffy knew that this was her only hope for a continued future.

Whether it happened tonight, or in a few years from now, being turned into a vampire and spending eternity with the love of her life was her destiny. She could feel it in her heart, and that was the only thing that really mattered.

Buffy was ready for her destiny to being tonight.

Spike walked up to her bedside, and although the smile Buffy sent him was small and tired, it was full of love and Spike easily returned it. Then, he leaned down and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin for a few moments. The simple and familiar gesture brought tears to Buffy's eyes, and as he pulled away, Spike gently wiped away the few tears that escaped and ran down her cheek. He knew that she was frightened. Scared of being soulless and of turning into someone who wasn't her.

He'd tried to tell her that she would still be her, but he knew she wouldn't fully believe it until she felt it herself. That she wouldn't change much, because he wouldn't let her. He'd take care of her, make sure that she didn't do something her soulful self wouldn't have. He'd be her soul, just as she was his.

Spike glanced towards the windows and it's shut blinds, already knowing that they had enough time before the sun rose. At first, the doctors had been reluctant to let them stay shut during the day, saying that she needed the sun. But after Buffy told them about Spike's 'skin condition', they let her do as she pleased. And as Spike stayed with her all day and night, the blinds were always shut.

Spike kissed Buffy's forehead once more before he walked over to the small closet on the other side of the room. Quickly packing all of her things into a bag, he lifted it up over his shoulder as he glanced around the room, making sure he had everything. Once done, he walked back to Buffy's side. They still hadn't spoken a word to each other, but their intimacy with each other ran so deep that they didn't have to. They'd spent many days and nights in almost complete silence, so comfortable and in tuned with each other that neither hardly noticed.

After one more kiss on Buffy's forehead, Spike helped her sit up in the bed and get into his leather coat. She was very weak, and it pained him to see his love in such agony. He comforted himself with the knowledge that in just a few hours, her pain would go away.

He lifted her up easily, and carried her out of the room, almost completely wrapped up in his duster. He'd signed her out almost as soon as the doctors told him the bad news, and while they had protested, there was no one stopping them as he walked down the hallway. The doctors and nurses who'd worked with Buffy all knew she wouldn't make it, and though they rather she stayed at the hospital where she could be monitored by them, they'd let Spike take her home so that she could die in peace, as she had asked of them.

And if they did find a donor, they would call Spike and he'd bring her right in.

At least that was the official idea Spike had agreed to, all the while knowing she'd never step foot into that hospital ever again.

He held her in his arms, feeling her heart beating against his skin and her head resting against his shoulder, as they used the elevator to get down and into the underground parking lot. He carried her over to their car and gently placed her in the passenger seat, securing her form properly with ease that only came from practice.

He then threw her bag into the backseat before he hurriedly walked around the car and got into the drivers seat. He glanced at her as he started the car, her head leaning against the cold window, her eyes closed. She fell asleep as Spike drove them through and out of the city.

He'd bought a small house just a few hours outside of New York for Buffy as an anniversary present. They had never had the time to live in the house though, as that'd been the same week they found out about Buffy's illness, and then she'd needed to be close to the hospital, until eventually she had to be admitted.

Spike drove in silence, often glancing down at Buffy as she slept, her face illuminated by the street lights every few feet. She was beautiful, even now that her sickness had taken most of her strength and vitality, and the medicine most of her hair and always present glow. Her hair was very short now, shorter than his. Spike himself had helped her shave it all off when she started to lose it, and then again just a month previous. She'd rather shave it all off herself, then wait for it to start falling off in lumps, like the doctors had warned her would happen.

Spike admitted to himself – and this he would never tell her, because he knew she'd be sad and she missed her hair enough as it was already – that he missed her long flowing locks of golden hair, and how it seemed to shine even in the dark. He especially missed the way it looked spread across their pillows in the candlelight as they made love, or as she slept beside him with his arms wrapped around her small frame.

A hospital therapist they'd been seeing to help them deal with the situation had told him early on, that losing her hair had made Buffy feel like less of a woman. That'd been after he'd slipped up, during one of the first few days after she'd started to lose her hair and he'd called her 'Goldilocks', something he'd been calling her for years. Buffy had broken down, crying for hours and hours on end over the loss of her hair and their situation. Once she'd stopped crying, they shaved off her hair before visiting the therapist. It's been an emotionally draining day for the both of them.

He smiled sadly at the memory, comforting himself with the knowledge that not only would she be fine in just a few hours, but her hair would have all the time in the world to grown long once again.

After hours of driving, they finally arrived at their house. Spike parked the car easily and got out. He made sure that Buffy was all right, then he got her bag out from the back and hurried up to the house. He unlocked and went inside, turning on the lights as he went. He placed her bag in the living room as he hurried past towards their bedroom, opening the door and making sure that the bed covers were turned down. After checking that everything had been taken cared of, he went back outside to the car and Buffy.

He carefully maneuvered the still sleeping Buffy out of the car and into the house, down the hallway. But instead of taking her into their bedroom, and putting her into bed, Spike passed the door and continued out onto the patio, where he gently placed her in one of the sun chairs, strategically placed to greet the sun. He glanced up at the sky, sensing the approaching dawn, and he knew he didn't have much time left, so he carefully woke Buffy.

Spike reached inside through the door, and picked up the blanket lying, waiting for him, just inside. After making sure that Buffy was indeed awake and that her focus was on the sky and the sunrise that was soon with them, he covered himself underneath the heavy blanket and hid behind a makeshift wall he'd been working on before Buffy got sick. It was there so that he'd be able to stay outside with her during the day, if only on the patio, but as it was not yet complete, it was still risky for him to be there.

Buffy glanced away from the sunrise, meeting Spike's eyes for a moment, before she focused once more on the sun as it rose higher over the horizon. She knew that this would be the very last time she'd ever see it like that, so free, and she was determined to treasure every single moment of it, which was what Spike wanted her to do.

When the sun had finally risen too high for Spike to be able to stay outside much longer, he walked up to Buffy and picked her up. No matter how much he might want her to be able to sit there all day and just bask in the sun, she was too weak. He carried her back into the house, closing the patio doors with the help of his right foot, before he carried her into their bedroom, laying her down on the bed.

"I've always wanted to see what you looked like in real light," Spike admitted as he laid down on the bed next to her. "I'm glad I got to see it at least once."

"Me too," Buffy whispered, a small smile gracing her pale face. "Thank you."

"I just wanted you to be able to see it one last time," he said, making Buffy's smile widen slightly. "Are you ready?" Spike asked.

Buffy didn't hesitate as she nodded.

Spike leaned down and kissed her lips softly before he leaned back and looked her directly in the eyes. "This is going to hurt a bit," he warned.

Buffy nodded once again, because she already knew that, before she smiled at him encouragingly. Spike leaned down and kissed her on the left side of her neck, the side he'd been marking her for years, not having wanted to touch the side his Great-Grand Sire had bitten years before.

And as his fangs entered her jugular, and Buffy's blood and life slipped away, slowly but surely, she couldn't help but smile.

She was ready.

**The End.**


End file.
